


Now You See Me

by Copper_Wires



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Fuck Or Die, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, No mpreg, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Thor (Marvel), Post-Thor: The Dark World
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-05 14:49:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14046621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Copper_Wires/pseuds/Copper_Wires
Summary: In retrospect, Thor realized, relics in Asgard rarely stayed buried. Putting things out of sight and out of mind was never a guarantee. That was the nature of repression, after all–a thing buried or a thought buried made no difference.(A kind-of omegaverse short fic, but not really; it's mostly an excuse for me to choose what I like about that kink and have Loki go into heat.)





	1. Chapter 1

It had been quiet for some time.  
  
Thor knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that time in Asgard passed exactly as it did on Earth–that is, in one direction, and at a steady rate–but things seemed to move slower on his sun-drenched homeworld; lazy hours passed in the palace’s glittering halls belied a feeling of unrest approaching from all sides. It had been a month since New York, since everything, and yet Thor sometimes felt that he might be flung back into it at any moment. On Asgard, what once felt like a carefree peace now felt like tense, forced calm–something held together only tenuously, as if with satin threads. The god of thunder had busied himself, first with recovering, with relaying all he had seen to his father and closest companions, and then with training, and with long hours spent in the libraries, trying to understand what _exactly_ had been raised against Earth, and how to ensure it never happened again. But it would, he felt sure, happen again. Things were different now. It was only a matter of being ready when they did.

So it was no shock, really, when Thor started to notice the guards. 

It started after a particularly raucous training session with some of the younger warriors. Thor had excused himself early; he found himself out of the loop of most of their casual gossip now, and preferred to simply leave once his muscles were sore. So it was that the god of thunder found himself taking the long way through the palace’s halls, skirting just short of the entrance to the dungeons. He paused to admire a set of gilded axes set above the wide entrance, and found himself wondering for the first time which ancient realm they had been claimed from.

It was only when Thor heard the clatter of armored feet and muffled shouting that he realized all was not as it should be. Taking Mjolnir in one hand, he descended the stairs as quietly as he could, heart pounding. Was there a prison riot? A break-in in the highest security cells? Thor shuffled through hundred possibilities at high speed, peering down into the entrance of the dungeons, only to see two men in the raiment of the Asgardian royal militia. Their swords lay forgotten on the stone tiles, and the larger of the two slammed his slighter counterpart against a wall, loudly cursing his name. Thor scanned his surroundings for some trickery and, finding none, frowned at the sight before him. The royal militia were Asgard’s best, its most trusted warriors. And here, in front of its most dangerous prisoners, they brawled like children? It wouldn’t do, and Thor was irritated for the fright their antics had given him. Gathering himself up to his considerable height, Thor stepped out of the shadows, barking his disapproval.

“What is the meaning of this?”

The two guards jumped apart immediately as though Thor had chosen to use a shock of lightning rather than a shouted reproach. They looked at each other as if confused to have been found fighting.

“Speak. Why do you abandon your post?”

The taller guard finally roused himself and inclined his head to Thor, blinking furiously.

“My lord, it was Colborn, he’s under some type of enchantment, he attacked me for standing at my post.”

“Not true!” yelped the other guard, assumedly Colborn. “It was I who was attacked. This man–” he pointed a finger at his peer, eyes wide, sweat beading on his brow– “has gone mad! It is my _duty_ to stand by the new prisoner, and he would drag me away and throw me into Hel for it!”

New prisoner? Thor glanced down the corridor, frowning slightly, the pale white glow from the high-security cells illuminating the stone tiles.

 _Ah._ Thor had a suspicion who the new prisoner was. Why he had stirred unrest among the guards, however, was another matter. Thor’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Colborn being shoved against the wall again. He yelled his disapproval, pulling the two men apart again, genuinely angry now.

“You two would fight in the presence of your future king? Look around you! This place is _full_ of enchantments. It’s your job to be better than them.” Thor shoved both men away, letting an expression of disdain cross his face. Better to bruise a warrior’s pride, where it hurt most, rather than their flesh. “You are relieved. Send for your replacements personally, and tell them why you are no longer fit to be here.”

The two men hesitated, looking back at the stairs.

“GO!” Thor bellowed, not wanting to make more of a scene than necessary–he was tired, for one thing, and the array of alien prisoners housed towards the front of the dungeon were already craning their necks, trying to see what the commotion was about. The guards backed away at once, scrambling up the stairs in defeat.

It was only once the sounds of their clattering boots had receded in the halls above that Thor allowed himself to slump against a wall, thinking hard. The urge to go and see Loki in his cell, to berate him for playing such games with the royal militia when he knew _full_ well that the punishment for escape was death, was overwhelming–and yet it had to be ignored. Thor wasn’t sure if a royal shouting match would do either of them any good, and the things he had to say to Loki he had already rehearsed, many times, in his head and out loud, turning the angry words over and over until they seemed hollow. He hadn’t visited his brother–well, they weren’t brothers, really, and that somehow made things worse–since handing him over to Odin. The decision had been a difficult one, but Thor knew Loki thrived on their interactions, always drawing power from his ability to get under Thor’s skin.

No, better to let this one lie. Report the incident, find better guards, leave well enough alone. Thor stood, with a greater effort than he’d have liked to admit, and strode up to the dungeon’s entrance, waiting for the new guards to come. It only took a few minutes, and after relaying a few curt instructions to the senior officer, Thor was traipsing back to his chambers, deep in thought.

He resolved to keep an eye on the situation.

 

* * *

 

 

Had he not decided to do so, however, it would not have mattered, since things escalated before he ever had the chance to do any quiet observation. 

The next time Thor walked past the dungeon–he had told himself the route was on his way, but really, it was a 10-minute detour; curiosity had gotten the better of him–he was shocked to see a sentinel of three guards standing at the mouth of the dungeons, and heard the voices of at least three more from the chambers below. Thor frowned, crossing his arms, gathering the folds of his loose-fitting jacket around him; he always felt slightly naked without armor on. The guards inclined their heads to him, acknowledging his presence.

“Has something happened in the dungeon, there?”

“My lord?” one of the guards replied, looking nervously at his cohorts.

“This place was never guarded by so many. Why increase the security?”

“Oh!” the guard’s eyes widened, and his face broke into a nervous smile. “Oh, you haven’t heard about the curse.”

“The curse?”

“Aye. All the best magic users have been in there, mind you, and they told us there’s nothing going on, save for the usual illusions by, er…” the guard cleared his throat, looking suddenly uncomfortable, but pressing on, “by the prisoner Loki, but anyone who stays down there for too long goes a bit…” he trailed off, delicately, but the guard standing closest to him picked up the slack gruffly.

“They go a bit mad, my lord.”

“Or a bit bloodthirsty!” piped up the first guard.

Thor’s frown deepened. “Mad _how_ , exactly?”

The second guard shrugged, as if Asgard’s most capable militia losing their minds was a quotidian occurrence. “Just…mad. At each other’s throats, fighting over where they’re allowed to stand, trying to beat out everyone else.”

“And your solution to this is…?”

“Well, we’ve shifted the guard a bit, there are still two down there, but we switch ‘em out on the hour, now. I stop wanting to kill these two once I’m upstairs, usually.”

The guard grinned, clearly seeing some humor in the situation, but Thor wasn’t laughing; he dismissed himself quickly and brushed past the guard, continuing along the hallway. A quick assessment of the situation led him to what he had already known, that this was Loki’s doing, but that didn’t make things any easier. Going to Odin about it was a mistake, that was clear enough–his father had acted as though Loki didn’t exist since the day they had returned. No, this was something Thor could handle alone–all Loki needed was to be put in his place, to be reminded that these games were something he would tire of quickly, and that the consequences for continuing them would be severe.

Still, it was another full day before Thor could work up the nerve to go see his brother in prison.

 

* * *

 

 

It was oddly difficult for Thor to leave his chambers that morning. He found himself making excuses; fussing with his appearance, tying back his hair, pacing in front of his mirror–he would wear his armor this time, to be sure, put on a show of strength and royalty. Eventually even this distraction lost its appeal, and Thor found himself approaching the dungeons, heart pounding. He was glad, at least, that he was seeing Loki for a reason. The urge to visit him before had brought Thor no small amount of distress; guilt mixed up in anger mixed up in shame. But the reasoning now was clear: Loki needed to be put in his place, and Thor…well, it wasn’t a job he had ever wanted, but it was apparently his now. Possibly forever. He would go, Thor thought, and say his piece and leave. And Loki would have to listen, under pain of death.

As Thor approached it, the yawning entrance to the dungeon seemed far more sinister this time, and the glittering axes above the archway seemed to mock him as he strode down the steps. Loki’s cell was in the back corner, and Thor nodded gruffly at the two guards who flanked the front of the dungeon’s lower level. He noted that they seemed tense, but understandably so; for all Thor knew, they could be anxious that he would report on their performance later. Chastising the royal militia wasn’t on his mind at the moment, though. Thor straightened up, Mjolnir at his waist, cape hanging down to the back of his calves. After an approving nod from a guard, Thor stepped out into the dungeon proper, and began the long walk to Loki’s cell. There were aliens of all shapes and sizes peering at him from their own little prisons, of course; one hissed something crude to him, which Thor ignored. There were war criminals who he had heard about since childhood, beaten-up lords of conquered realms, and….

And there was Loki, right where he was supposed to be.

Thor stopped in front of the cell, looking up at him. Loki was standing upright, among a forest of little tables and piles of books. _Mother must have allowed him those._ Thor gazed up at Loki, not announcing his presence, not needing to. It was a moment before either of them spoke.

“Hello, Thor.” Loki glanced at him and then turned on one heel and began to pace, very tightly, not moving far from the front of the cell. Thor hadn't heard his voice in so long, it was strange now to hear it glancing off the white walls of the cell, low and contemptuous, like snagged velvet. “Have you finally come to gloat?”

Thor watched Loki carefully, trying to keep emotion from his face. This wasn’t what he had expected. He had expected an immediate burst of anger, of rage, or to be ignored completely. Loki looked…. _normal_. Healthy, even. Same delicate features, same dark hair, same pale eyes; even the soft prison clothing he had been allowed was in his usual emerald shade. He hadn’t even reacted to what he must know was a visit prompted by his tampering with the guards. Thor shook his head slowly, not taking his eyes off Loki, looking for a sign of mischief.

“I’ve heard you’ve been having _fun_ down here,” Thor said, trying to put plenty of pressure on the words, making them sound like the accusation they were.

“Have you? And what fun am I supposedly having?”

Thor refused to let his voice waver, but he spoke slower now, to ensure Loki knew that _he_ knew what was going on. “You’ve... been casting enchantments on the royal militia.”

“That’s news to me. How have I been managing it? I must be very good at enchantments, to cast them from…this.” Loki paused his pacing for a moment to wave a pale hand at the general space of his cell. Thor pressed on, folding his arms a little awkwardly, suddenly aware of how much space he took up, irritation at how Loki insisted on drawing this out prickling in his throat.  
  
“I’m not here to talk in circles with you, Loki, just to ask that you stop. It would be foolish to continue, for your own well-being, I ask you to–”

“For my own _well-being_?” Loki paused, feigning an incredulous expression, mouth twisting, as if the concept was both a foreign and hilarious one. “Is Odin planning on killing me for my crimes?”

“No, but–”

Loki's smirk dropped, leaving his face oddly flat. “Then I hardly see how things can get worse.”

_Ah._

Thor felt a strange hitch of satisfaction. _Worse_. Of course. It wasn’t something that would be said by the version of Loki that had access to his books, to his dignity, to his beauty–that Loki would have found something to gloat about, Thor was sure of it. The words that Thor was hearing must be coming from the _real_ Loki–whichever more defeated version of his brother was vainly hiding behind this projection, this image. It seemed so obvious now; the guards had even told him of the illusions! He had just been too distracted to seek them out. Now Thor turned a practiced eye to his brother’s form–it was in the face, always in the face that he could tell a false image of Loki from a real one, and–yes! This one had the tell-tale haziness about the face, as if there was no real spark of intelligence behind his eyes.

Thor gritted his teeth, and it turned into a smug grin, one he kept as he glared upward.

“Drop the illusion, Loki.”

Loki paused again, but Thor knew that pause, too; the 'I've been caught and I'm trying to think of a lie to get out of it' pause. When Loki spoke, Thor could swear he heard his voice tremble slightly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Thor gazed coldly into the wide front of Loki’s cell, where the image of his—his not-brother was still to be seen, slim and composed.

So that's how it was. Well, if Loki insisted on playing games, even after he had lost at all his usual ones, Thor wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of drawing things out. 

“Don’t you? Very well.” Thor allowed himself a tight smile. “I’m sorry to have bothered you. Goodbye.”

It took about five purposeful steps in the direction of the stairs for Loki to give up.

“ _Wait_.”

Thor turned on his heel, eyebrows raised. “Was there something?”

“I _hate_ you.”

Now _that_ was the real Loki. Thor suppressed a smug smile. “Ah. I hate you too. Was that all?”

The image flickered slightly. “Do you really want to know?”

“Know what?

“What I really look like.”

“I’m sure, as you challenge, that I’ve seen worse.”

The illusory Loki’s expression didn’t change, but when it next spoke, Thor heard a note of desperation in his voice that he hadn’t expected.

“Fine. Very well. Fine.”

Thor raised an eyebrow, slightly unsettled, but pressed on in a lighthearted tone. “Oh. Well, get on with it, then, I would speak to the real you about your trickery.”  
  
Illusion-Loki shook his head quickly, dark locks of hair sweeping over his shoulders, and the desperate note to his voice was more pronounced now.  
  
“You have to tell the guards to close the other cells first. And then tell them to…turn their backs. Please.”

The illusion flickered again; without its being fully lifted, the effect was like seeing Loki through a field of distortion–as through deep water or mist. Thor was struck by the unnerving suspicion that it wasn’t an intentional tremor. He glanced to one side, towards a row of levers that darkened the wide-open viewing portals of the high security cells. He couldn’t see any harm in doing that–was this just Loki’s pride at work? Not wanting to be seen in a reduced state, probably angry, maybe disheveled? Thor hesitated, but playing Loki’s games had always been part of beating him at them.

“Guards!” Thor barked, and he could almost feel the relief washing over Loki, even through the illusion, which still had him standing demurely in front of his books. “I’m closing the faces of these cells. You–” the prince of Asgard pointed at the two armored men “–will walk as far up the corridor as you can, and turn your backs.”

It was a relief when neither of them protested. Thor pulled down the levers hurriedly, and the bright white faces of the cells grew dark, cutting off noise and light. He heard the click-clank of armored shoes on the stone tiles as the guards retreated far up the corridor, well past Loki’s cell, out of earshot. Thor waited a beat before turning back towards Loki, ready to face whatever trick he had planned, ready to demand he drop his illusion, ready to–

Thor didn’t get much farther in his mental preparations, because Loki had already dropped his illusion, and Thor realized that it hadn’t been about how Loki looked. What hit Thor full in the face was a wave of scent, of _smell_ , and beyond that, a wave of sensitivity and heat that had the god of thunder reaching for his hammer before he realized that Loki wasn’t casting a spell on him.

He couldn’t have. Not in this state.

Blinking through the sensory flood, Thor gazed into Loki’s cell, and as the last vestiges of Loki's magic dissipated, what could only be described as a _truly_ upsetting sight came into view.  
  
Loki was curled up on the floor in front of his bed, the rest of the furniture in his cell pushed into one corner. His pale, slender body was covered only at the waist, where Loki had draped the thinnest sheet he had over himself for the sake of modesty. There wasn’t much left to the imagination, though. The silky fabric stuck to Loki’s thighs with sweat and…..well, mostly with sweat, Thor thought, not wanting to think about what else was dampening the area around Loki’s legs and crotch. Loki’s chest rose and fall with ragged, uneven breaths, and his eyes peered out at Thor behind a mess of dark hair that was shockingly disheveled. Not even bothering to sit up, Loki shifted slightly, the better to face the cell’s front, and Thor could see the tension and discomfort evident in every muscle.  
  


“Now you see me, brother.”

And Norns, if the sight had been bad, it was nothing compared to Loki’s _voice_. It was hoarse, as if he had been screaming for hours, for days, the words coming through pink lips that looked chapped and bitten. Thor could do nothing but gaze at him in horror, trying to string together the logic of the situation. Loki must have seen the gears turning, as he let out a pathetic little bark of laughter.

“It’s the cell.”

Thor shook his head, trying to rid himself of a strange, unnamable feeling brewing in the pit of his stomach. “What?”

“The cell. It prevents—hnmh—“ Loki shivered, a guttural little whine escaping him as he shifted around again uncomfortably, one pale hand grabbing at the sheet covering him to keep it in place. “—it prevents _physical_ enchantments. Do you see?”

Thor didn’t. He could see plenty, but some remnant of his childhood desire to protect Loki, to keep him safe, must have been stirred by the pathetic sight, and kept Thor fixed to the spot, unable to speak as he choked down the rage rising in his chest.

Loki, thankfully, pressed on regardless. “It’s the standard enchantment for high-security prisoners. I figured it out a few days into….this. It’s really,” Loki grinned, the irony of the situation not lost on him, “to protect me. Physical harm cannot come to me here, no killing myself with magic, no hurting myself, no c _hanging my body in any way_.” Loki rolled onto his back now, wincing, apparently loath to let his hips touch the cell floor, back arching. Thor saw his eyes flutter shut as if the cold of the stone was a relief. “Do you know, brother, what one mark of a great society is?”

Thor felt himself shake his head, not sure how it was relevant, eyes still on the curve of Loki’s back, tracing the flutter of his breath along the rise and fall of his chest.

“A low incarceration rate. Specifically of one’s own people. Father seems to have embraced that, at least since we were young.” Loki, with great effort, apparently, reached up for a book that was sitting at the very edge of his bed. Rather than read from it, he simply flung it towards the front of his cell, causing Thor to jump back in alarm as it slammed against the invisible barrier and crumpled to the floor of the cell. “A comprehensive history of Asgard’s most highsecurity prisoners,” Loki sneered, falling back heavily and rolling to face Thor again. “I had to check, you see, whether my situation had any precedent. Would you believe I’m the first of my kind to be in one of these cells? Ever? They’re actually a new invention, you see. High-security prisoners of war…well, they require you to take prisoners to begin with.”

Every word spoken now seemed to be a monumental task for Loki; his eyes were squeezed shut as if he was trying to stop himself from screaming. “The idea that someone who had the heat cycle of an Aesir would ever be within these dungeons, wouldn’t be able to suppress what our– what your people took such pride in keeping away, those unfortunate demands of our biology, so usefully sublimated by seidr that we often forget they exist–well, it never occurred to the ones building my prison.”

Loki winced as another visible shiver wracked his angular frame, and he looked up at Thor with something that resembled hunger. Thor held his gaze for a moment, breathing hard, not trusting himself to speak. Finally the words came, as if from a great distance; Thor could hear himself speaking, but all he could feel was that strange, burning sensation that had started in his stomach and now flooded his whole body, making him tense. It must be rage, rage at seeing Loki tortured so.

“Loki, I am sure that father had no idea—had no consideration for this.”

Loki’s eyes flashed for a moment, and then, to Thor’s surprise, he looked utterly defeated, and spoke quietly, like someone who had lost the knack of forming words.

“Please don’t.”

Thor frowned. “What?”

“Is that why you’re here? To try to confuse me when I’m in this state? Try to warp my thoughts, make me doubt myself?”

Thor’s frown deepened, feeling a twinge of genuine fear for Loki’s sanity. “I’m simply saying that father, if he knew what you were going through–” Thor was cut off by a long, exhausted peal of hysterical laughter that split the air worse than a scream would have.

“He—oh, you really _don’t_ know. You came down here by yourself? Looking for clues? Trying to see what I was up to?”  
  
“Loki, I don’t…”

But Loki was already sitting up, gathering blankets around himself, backing away from the front of the cell and crawling back onto his bed, gazing at Thor with something like pity.

“Father knows. I sent for him the moment I felt it coming on. He’s known for a week. Came down here himself, even, so that I knew the decision came from him.”

Loki twisted his face into a comically stern expression, slapping one hand across his eye, mimicking Odin. “When you betrayed our realm, you brought the punishments of our realm on yourself, Loki.”

Loki let his hand fall back onto his lap; it seemed that talking was growing difficult again, even through his anger. Thor heard him swallow dryly. “I’ll go insane in here, probably–if not this time, then the next. There’s not really a precedent for any of this. I just thought you’d come to say goodbye, which I suggest you do soon, because I’m about to start begging for things that I _really_ don’t want those guards to hear me beg you for.”

Thor was barely listening. He felt himself approaching the very front of the cell, until his face almost touched the enchanted glass screen, and Loki, even curled as he was in the far corner, recoiled slightly. Thor took a deep breath, which, in retrospect–perhaps not the best idea. It didn’t do much to clear his mind; it simply increased the heady, yearning, violent feeling that he still couldn’t put a name to. Thor hesitated for a moment, then pressed a hand to the glass. It didn’t feel like much of anything; just an invisible barrier separating him from the chaos of Loki’s world.  
  
“I will be back. And I will make this right. How long will it last?”  
  
“It’s impossible to say. But it feels like _hel_ , Thor.”

Thor nodded, not disbelieving, trying to swallow the anger he felt at seeing Loki reduced in this way. “What is it you require? You must know the spell that prevents you from hurting yourself can’t be removed.”

Loki leaned against the wall, neck bare, the pale white light that the cell radiated throwing the beads of dewy sweat that gathered on his torso into sharp relief. “Ah.”

“I didn’t think you would ask father for _anything_. But no, I suppose it’s impossible. I’m such a menace, after all.” Loki grinned weakly.

Thor let his hand slide down the front of the cell’s window, stepping back again, still trying to shake himself out of his fugue. He could feel sharp regret piercing through his less comprehensible emotions. It was true. Loki was still _Loki_ , and although the sheer extent of his deterioration was enough to convince Thor that his predicament was genuine, trusting him entirely was out of the question. Giving him an inch of ground, really, was pushing it, but this was clearly beyond the pale; it was torture, essentially, and torture hadn’t been part of Loki’s sentence.

“I could…request that you have privacy.” Thor glanced around the cell, brow furrowed. “How have you even been able to maintain the illusion in your state?”

“I haven’t been doing anything _but_ maintain it.”

That explained the disarray, then, and the inexplicable frustration of the guards. Projecting an outward calm while smelling–well, while smelling like _that_ , and not even being able to…tend to oneself, not able to even try to break the heat. Thor felt the back of his neck grow hot as he realized exactly what he was trying to facilitate. It wasn’t Loki’s fault, it was just biology, just a physical need like hunger or thirst, and prisoners were allowed to satisfy other needs–why not this one? The image of Loki writhing on the floor around his own slender fingers leapt, unbidden, into Thor’s mind, and he shook his blonde head, irritated and not a little ashamed. This was simply the heat-scent at work.

“It won’t help.” Loki’s voice was shaky again, a hint of hysteria edging in. “It’s like an itch that gets worse the longer you scratch it, unless you do it right.” He refused to meet Thor’s eye, now, which suited Thor just fine after the train of thought he had just proceeded down; the two men gazed at some of the different broken bits of furniture that were piled between Loki and the front of the cell.

“That may be so, but it can’t be good for you, to hold up this…this glamour, while you suffer so.” Thor internally congratulated himself for keeping his tone so measured, gazing pointedly at the bent wooden arm of a chair.

Loki shook his head, dismissing Thor’s words. “The guards will kill each other over me if they see me like this. Or I’ll hurt myself, trying to get out to them.”

Thor’s fist tightened around his hammer at that. “I’ll kill them myself if they disrespect a son of Asgard in such a way.”

“Thor.” Loki still had the corner of a blanket draped over him, and he gripped onto it now, knuckles white, gritting his teeth. “I need–”

“I _KNOW_ WHAT YOU NEED.” Thor’s shout echoed through the now-empty cell block and he turned his back on Loki, hammer in hand, the urge to smash the glass in front of him rising, breath coming fast. He was embarrassed to hear the quaver of emotion in his voice when he next spoke. “What would you have me do?”

Loki had barely flinched when Thor was shouting; he was still slumped in the corner, eyes squeezed shut now, practically whimpering.

“Anything’s better than this.”

“Loki…”

“Break the glass and let the guards have me.”

Thor’s mouth went dry. He should leave, he thought, blearily. Hadn’t Loki warned him about what he’d start begging for? Hadn’t he told Thor to leave? His boots felt glued to the ground as he stood, back to Loki’s cell, fist still clenched around Mjolnir. Loki’s voice had a keening quality to it that Thor, even in all his years of listening to Loki lie and plead his way out of various fixes, had never heard.

“They’ll want to. I want them to. I need it, I– I don’t care. I don’t care what happens. I want _both_ of them, they’ll fight over me, and I’ll let whichever one is stronger fuck me, right on the floor, he can fuck me with his sweaty cock until I’ve got his seed coming out my _ears_ , I don’t _care_ –”

“Loki–” Thor felt sick. He should go, he should leave, this was exactly the place where he should  _not_ be right now, and Loki wasn't stopping, his breath was coming fast now, worked up over the words he spoke.

“Say I did it if you like. Say I bewitched you. I’ll take whatever punishment Odin gives me, it can’t be worse than this, it can’t, it can’t–”

Thor turned to face the cell again, the hot, angry urge in his stomach absolutely _roaring_ its disapproval. He raised his hammer, pointing it towards Loki’s face, which he saw was now flushed, lips wet, eyes bright with unfixed desire.

Thor shook himself again, hoarsely barking out his protest. “I-I will do no such thing. Keep your head. You disgrace yourself with these whims, brother–”

“I am _not_ ,” Loki hissed, teeth clenched, jaw snapping up, finally meeting Thor’s gaze, “your brother.”

They stood like that for a moment, eyes locked, blue on green.

“I…” Thor finally choked out, head spinning, dropping his arm back to his side. “I need to leave.”

“Good idea.”

“I’ll be back. I’ll do _something_.”

“You’ve already _done_ something.”

“H—have I?” Thor's voice was almost a squeak.

But Loki, it seemed, was finally beyond words. He had let himself fall back onto his bed, hips raised again, one hand trailing down between his legs. The green velvet bedcoverings and white sheets–wrinkled from when Loki had tried to gather them up–had all but slipped off, and a long, low moan escaped his lips as he tried unsuccessfully to cover himself, to put _something_ between his trembling body and Thor’s gaze. It was no use. With a hiss of frustration, Loki’s hand stopped a few inches short of his groin, dark hair falling across his face, covering his eyes. It seemed like an eternity that Thor stood there, watching Loki, hearing his short, gasping breaths, eyes fixed on his pale throat.

Then, as in a sudden moment of salience, Loki sprang up again, grabbing not for the sheets but for a crystal water goblet that stood on a table beside his bed. Thor heard himself cry out in shock as Loki crushed it against the wall, heard Loki scream in pain as the broken glass pierced his fist, bright, deep cuts that sprang up scarlet and immediately began to heal through the magic of the cell. But it was enough. The last thing Thor saw was Loki’s naked body straighten up on the bed, hand still dripping blood, as the sobering pain left him with just enough clarity to summon his illusion again. The golden light of his seidr closed around the broken chairs and tables, sweeping over to the corner where Loki was still crouched, trembling, spitting out his final retort as the image of his well-groomed former self encompassed him.

“ _Please. Go_.” Loki hissed, and it was a supplication as much as it was a command.

And Thor, his nerve abandoning him, fled.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki had always assumed, after all, that Thor leaving him was something to be counted on; being a second choice was second nature to him. But something assured him that that was over now.
> 
> (The second chapter to this Loki-is-in-heat short fic; this is where things get, as the kids say, "hot and heavy.")

“It’s wrong.” 

Thor had made it to the throne room in record time, after a brief stop at his chambers–some cold water on his face to bring him back to his senses had been necessary–and now paced before his father angrily, scarlet cape billowing behind him as he turned on his heel to face Odin. The king had regarded Thor silently up to this point, only gesturing to excuse his courtiers when Thor demanded this be a private audience, but now he spoke with a measured calm, as though he was explaining something very simple to a willful child.

“It is nature. Loki understood what the consequences of his actions would be. When he betrayed our realm, he–”

“–brought the punishments of our realm on himself, yes, I know,” Thor interjected bitterly, glaring up at Odin, one fist around Mjolnir as if he had just come straight from the battlefield. “But this is beyond justice. We do not _torture_ our prisoners, he–he could die. He could go mad.”

Odin frowned. “Was he not already mad?”

Thor swallowed. “What?”

“You know what I said. Were his actions not those of a madman?” The obvious disdain in Odin’s voice made Thor’s stomach clench. “I thought you would be less sympathetic to the prisoner Loki, given that his actions most directly affected you, your favorite realm, your new friends...”

 _The prisoner, Loki._ As if this was a different person than the one Odin had raised as a son. Thor starting forward angrily, swung his arm, gesturing with Mjolnir as if to sweep the accusations away, spat his retort.

“Loki’s madness and his crime are not of issue here. I would ask this be rectified for any prisoner,” Thor met Odin’s eye, challenging him. “As the future king. It’s a matter of justice.”

“Justice!” barked Odin, leaping up, slamming his scepter against the ground. “Justice would have been to let him _die_.”

“Compassion, then!” shouted Thor, the fear and anger he had felt earlier in the cell, the urge to _protect_ , stirring again in the pit of his stomach. He staid himself, letting his arm fall back to his side, trying to keep his pressing concern for Loki’s safety out of his voice, but the words seemed to quiver as he spoke.

“Father, we would be better to let him die at this point. It’s not–no Aesir is forced to endure the heat cycles anymore, not for centuries. It’s barbaric, what he’s going through in there. And it’s been a week already, please, just…” Thor swallowed, looking around the throne room as if a simple solution might present itself, but none did, and he pressed on, “Just _try_. Try something. I’ll–I’ll stake my own life on it, if need be.” Thor straightened up, holding out his hammer, pledging on it. “Whatever it takes. I’ll be in there with whoever you get to help him, I’ll be sure no harm comes to them.”

“That’s fine.”

“You might be forced witness the carnal violation of the man who was raised as your brother. You will see him come to shame as his lusts overtake him.”

Thor’s breath caught in his throat. He coughed nervously, but stayed put, hammer still raised in a pledge to the king. “I—I’ll turn my back. He’ll thank me later for it, I’m sure. If it takes me being there for you to agree to help him.”

“You may be tempted to overtake him yourself.”

Thor froze, staring up at his father, mouth suddenly dry.

“I am only warning you in advance of what you plan on doing, my son.”

Odin’s expression was stony. Thor searched his father’s face for an answer–was this idea of—of Thor _violating_ Loki simply hyperbole, something sensational intended to turn Thor’s stomach and throw him off his train of thought? Or did Odin suspect what Thor had pictured for a few heady moments down in the dungeons? Did he know? Did he  _care_?

But no, Thor thought wildly, there was no way. He hadn’t been prepared down there, and neither had Loki; this time, he thought, things would be different. They would be cautious allies, as they always had been; anything else was out of the question.

“I–I offer my services in the name of compassion, father,” Thor finally choked out, choosing his words carefully. “I would not do so if there was a chance of such a violation. It would be wrong, and I intend to do Loki no wrong.”

This answer, much to Thor’s relief, seemed to satisfy his father.

“I suppose,” Odin said slowly, sounding more tired than anything, now, “that you will not be discouraged from this notion?”

Thor squared his shoulders, chin raised in defiance. “I will not.”

“Very well. I will send for a healer. And Thor–” Odin’s eye flashed, his tone growing deadly serious. “You must keep your promise to me. Throw yourself into harm’s way if need be.”

For a moment, Thor was struck by the thought that he would throw himself in front of a supernova if it meant Loki’s safety. He nodded, nervous but relieved, inclining his head to the king.

“I will, father. You have my word.”

 

* * *

 

 

In the end, it was all arranged very quickly–almost too quickly for Thor to really grow comfortable with the idea, though he supposed time truly was of the essence.

It was the next evening, and Thor’s mind felt light as the captain of the guards briefed him on how to operate the entrance to the cell. Its invisible front screen was operated with a bio-lock pad that had been coded to responded to Thor’s touch and his alone. The plan for once he was inside the cell was fairly simple: Thor would accompany a healer, the healer was to… _attend_ to Loki in some way, and Thor would be there to guard him. He had heard reassuring words from his mother about this healer’s skill, about how he had alleviated cases of heat-madness in some of Asgard’s wilder regions. After the shouting match he had had with Odin, Thor was willing to take her word for it; there simply wasn’t time to waste over logistics. If this healer failed to break Loki’s heat, then Thor would simply take matters into his own hands. Whatever that meant. The next solution, he supposed. Another healer.

_Something._

Thor was relieved to see that the other cell fronts had been closed when he and the healer strode down the now-familiar dungeon corridor, flanked by a single guard. The healer, who was a tall, distinguished, darkish man slightly older than Thor, held a small wooden chest under one arm. In it were silk clothes intended to soothe a heat-mad Aesir’s skin, a small arrangement of balms and medicines, and, Thor had seen when the healer had checked it before proceeding down the corridor, a number of very phallic speculums and toys, clearly intended for insertion. Thor tried his hardest not to think about those as their guard threw Loki’s cell a nervous look before making his way back up the stairs, leaving them alone with the prisoner.

Loki had dropped the illusion long before they reached him. Or perhaps he hadn’t been able to keep it up any longer. Thor felt the now-familiar stabbing feeling in his stomach as he gazed into the cell. Loki was curled against the leftmost wall, this time, and he was completely naked, trying to cool himself against the white stone, chest barely rising and falling with his ragged breath. Thor tore his eyes away and strode up the stairs, pressing the bio-lock before Loki could move. The door vanished and the healer hurried inside, Thor following behind him to lock the door again from the inside.

The scent, from this side of the wall, was almost enough to make Thor fall to his knees. It wasn’t even a _smell_ , per se–there was no smell to it, but it was a scent, an awareness of something chemical, a feeling that took shape in the air that Thor inhaled. It was also, unmistakably, _Loki’s_ scent. The amount of information he could glean from it was overwhelming. He could tell instantly that Loki was still feverish, and beyond that, he was given a distinctive sense of what could only be called _ripeness_ , of readiness, and to Thor’s horror, more vivid visions flashed through his mind’s eye, so sharp and accurate that he felt Loki was sending him explicit, detailed instructions on _exactly_ how to break his heat. If Thor hadn’t known the chamber was enchanted to prevent most of Loki’s more sinister magic, he might have thought it to be the case.

Thor forced himself to stand still by the entranceway as the healer, apparently unperturbed, strode forward into the cell and knelt by Loki, introducing himself, gesturing at the chest. Thor saw Loki raise his head slightly, and he prayed a silent prayer of admiration to his ancestors; how did they get anything done when they had all gone through this on a monthly basis? It was too much. Thor couldn’t even meet Loki’s eye.

“Thank you” he heard Loki mutter, as the healer helped him to his feet, walking him over to a pile of blankets and letting him recline again, less rigidly this time. Thor simply nodded, wishing he could turn his back, but knowing it would be irresponsible. Besides…he had never seen Loki naked before, not like this, at least. Making a quick change of clothes in the royal bathhouses was one thing, but Loki was practically on display now, and Thor, with his newfound excuse of keeping an eye on the healer, kept two eyes very firmly on his brother. Or not-brother. Thor was caring less and less about that detail, now, as he watched the healer carefully touch Loki’s ribs, then under his arms, and then– _oh, norns, Thor was never going to survive this_ –his pale, perfect throat, two fingers checking his pulse. Thor tried to look somewhere else, which turned out to be a mistake as he found his eyes settling between Loki’s muscular legs. Thor’s neck felt hot as he noticed that Loki was sporting a painful, swollen erection, as if he had been aroused for hours and refused to touch himself. It stood out against his pale skin, and Thor was shocked to see that Loki was almost completely hairless there; perhaps it was a side effect of whatever mix of chromosomes led him to go into a heat that demanded to be broken by penetration and left his thighs slick. Had Loki always known this about himself? Had he wondered? Had he sought partners who could simulate such a bond, only to be left wanting?  _That_ thought sent an unexpected fire through Thor, more than arousal or shame–it was hot, burning anger at the idea of Loki having other such partners. His brother's love life had always been shrouded in mystery, but now Thor was barraged with infuriating mental images of his friends, his fellow warriors, pressing his brother up against one of the palace walls, making claims to him, and--

“Tell me how this feels.”

Thor was brought back to reality, because  _fuck_ , now the healer was rubbing a cooling balm over Loki’s chest, and Thor saw Loki shake his head in frustration, clearly trying not to be rude, but also very clearly beyond the point where balms and soothing words would be much of a cure. The healer frowned, but seemed unperturbed; he simply muttered a few more quiet questions to Loki before turning back to Thor.

“My lord,” he began, delicately, “We’re going to attempt to break the heat, now.”

A quiet roaring started in Thor’s head. He smiled tightly, placing Mjolnir by his feet.

“Of-of course. Do you think it’s…are you optimistic?” _Are you excited to fuck my little brother? Are you excited to claim such a prize, you ancient, stupid, unworthy_ ––Thor shook himself, trying to banish the anger that had risen in him, but he was sure he had felt Loki’s scent change. Loki knew what was about to happen to him, and he was nervous, he was _anticipating_  that it would not work.

“I’m not sure, to be honest.” The healer glanced back at Loki, who was still stretched out on the floor, one arm curled delicately across his chest. “You know this, yes? That it may not work?”

Loki nodded, and Thor was too slow to avert his gaze this time; he felt the full force of Loki’s pale eyes on him, saw a flash of desperation in that look, and suddenly he was struck with the unshakable feeling that Loki, despite his lack of protests, did _not_ want this. The anticipation he could scent was fearful, fear Loki felt that nature was working against him, coupled with the most desperate need. The Loki that Thor had just seen was the same one who had smashed a glass in his hand rather than be seen in a compromising position; Thor was sure if it, and yet he could do nothing but turn himself slightly, trying to tear his gaze away.

_I told father I intend to do Loki no wrong._

The healer was crouching over Loki now, and Thor could see Loki reaching out one trembling hand, holding on the man’s shoulder to steady himself as he spread his legs hesitantly.

_It’s wrong. He needs it; that doesn’t mean he wants it from him. Or that he wants it this way at all, so clinical, so detached--  
_

Thor didn’t dare look at the healer’s face; he kept his sights on Loki out of the corner of his eye, watched Loki nod in exhausted, needy resignation as the healer explained once again what he was about to do.

_Do no wrong._

Thor’s heart was pounding. He shouldn’t be watching this, he thought wildly; he _definitely should not be looking at this_ , at the healer calmly washed his hands in a basin of warm water, muttered a reassuring word to Loki, gave him a brief warning, and then pushed two fingers inside his brother with clinical detachment.

_WRONG––_

It would have been bearable, Thor reflected later, if Loki hadn’t _whimpered._

But the low, broken sound of relief that escaped his brother’s lips was loud, hungry, and feral; Thor saw Loki grab at the healer’s wrist and immediately force himself down on his hand, whispering feverishly, begging the man to just “ _fuck me, already, he won’t see, please_ –” and after that all Thor saw was red. He must have shouted before charging the man, because both the healer and Loki turned in alarm, but it wasn’t notice enough for the robed man to prepare himself for Thor’s attack; Thor was grabbing him by the collar, pulling him off Loki, half-pushing, half-dragging him to the door.

He heard concerned yelps of “My lord? My lord?” but they fell on deaf ears; Thor had one singular desire now, and that was to get this man away from what was _his_. Loki was _his responsibility_. Thor slammed a hand on the bio-lock controls, restraining the healer with one arm, and the glass front of the cell vanished momentarily, long enough for him to shove the terrified man bodily out of the glowing white room and onto the dungeon’s stone floor. His rage not yet spent, Thor punched the bio-lock, sparks flying from his fist, and instantly the cell’s front was obscured, as if an iron wall had suddenly materialized between Thor and the rest of the dungeon.

 _Must have triggered the emergency lock,_ Thor found himself thinking hazily, and then– the roar of lust in his stomach was satisfied to understand that this meant he had _time_ , and yes, that tugging feeling he had felt since first laying eyes on Loki days ago was _lust_ , he understood now; some deep, biological drive that had gone repressed, diffused by the sophisticated magic of Asgard since he reached adulthood. Thor had time, glorious minutes of it, maybe hours, and–privacy. The cell’s walls still glowed a pale white, but it was dimmer now, on backup power, a sort of twilight glow. Thor turned, arms bare, fists clenched, finally, to face Loki.

Loki had said nothing. He was looking from Thor to the biolock to the door, eyes sweeping feverishly across his body, and Thor simply stood, breathing heavily, tossing his blonde head to free some strands of hair that had fallen in his eyes, not daring to step forward. He was struck with the strange impression that Loki was _sizing him up_ , and that he, Thor, would know when the assessment was over, and whether he had passed.

And slowly, eyes locked on Thor’s, Loki gave the slightest of nods; more like a bow, an incline of his head. He stretched his pale, gorgeous body once, ran a hand through his dark, sweat-damp curls, and then–Thor felt his mouth go dry again–he _turned over onto his stomach_ , hands steadying himself against the ground, eyes still burning, hips raised now, back arched slightly.

It was an invitation, unmistakably so, and perhaps the most gorgeous sight Thor had ever seen.

“Please,” Loki murmured, cheek pressed against the cold white stone, sounding utterly spent, and Thor felt as though someone was tugging at a hook behind his stomach. “Don’t make me wait any longer.”

Thor didn’t intend to. It had been years since a decision–especially one regarding Loki–had been so easy to make. With one hand, he tugged loose the straps of his armor, tossing the chestplate aside, never tearing his eyes from Loki, cursing himself for putting on so much clothing this morning. His wrist guards clattered to the floor as he tossed them aside, and then his heavy belt, and he started walking towards Loki now in just his soft undershirt and trousers.

The journey across the cell seemed to take a century, but Thor didn’t dare to rush at the prone form in front of him; he approached Loki as one would approach a wounded animal; confident, calm. The lusty, red-hot urge that had been pumping through his entire body moments ago now seemed to be pooling in his groin, and it was with clenched teeth that Thor finally knelt, heavily, behind Loki. Thor raised his hands, ghosting them above Loki’s hips, and saw they were shaking. Up close like this, all he could hear was the shallow growl of Loki’s breath and his own pounding heartbeat in his ears. Finally, unable to resist any longer, Thor let himself run one wide hand along the pale expanse of Loki’s back, and Loki reacted _gorgeously_ , leaning into the touch as if he had been born to be caressed in this way. With his other hand, Thor shoved down his trousers, growling as the waistband rubbed against his erection, finally freeing himself. He felt Loki’s shoulders tremble.

“Shh,” Thor muttered, breaking the tense silence, his voice a low rumble. “I’ve got you. Let me.”

He removed his hand from Loki’s back and straightened up, running a hand over his own cock, stifling a groan, then turning a critical eye to Loki’s hips and ass, raised so invitingly for him.

“Tsk,” Thor fussed, rough hands grabbing Loki’s waist on both sides and forcing him into a more appealing angle. “Up for me, now. Like that.”

 _“Thor!”_ Loki’s yelp of protest was an octave higher than his usual speaking voice, and Thor felt Loki tremble again, anticipating, but he did as he was told, complying to Thor’s touch. _Good_. There was something fundamentally satisfying about this, about preparing to mount Loki with no resistance. Thor saw that Loki’s thighs were glistening with sweat and slick; he lined their hips up, running a thick finger up along the inside of one thigh, pressing thoughtfully until he was almost pushing into Loki’s entrance. Thor heard a muffled little sob from below him. Loki’s face was pressed against his forearm, bracing himself against the stone floor, and the whimpering continued as Thor applied more pressure, a little stream of beseeching words tumbling out of him.

“ _Please_. Please. Please. Pl–”

Loki’s begging was cut off as Thor removed his finger, having come to a conclusion he liked. Loki was more than prepared for this, and besides, there wasn’t time for much else. Without preamble, he tugged Loki closer to him by the waist, running out of patience and gentleness, and pressed the head of his hard cock against the slick hole, holding himself in one hand, ensuring he was at an angle he liked.

“This,” Thor said thickly, entranced by the sight of his thick erection pressed against Loki’s slender ass, “may hurt a bit.”

Thor thrust in, and Loki _screamed_.

 

* * *

 

It was like being split in two. Loki wasn’t sure what he had expected, but Thor had pushed into him, rough, hot, and _painfully_ hard–Loki hadn’t even thought to glance back and see what Thor’s cock looked like, but it felt _massive_ –and though the heat hadn’t broken, it certainly felt different now.

Loki screamed, but he also choked back a sob of relief that was rising in his throat as Thor pulled back only to thrust in again, deeper this time, his muscular thighs slamming against the back of Loki’s legs. Loki hadn’t been fucked by a man like this in years, certainly not ever in _this_ state, and his body was unaccustomed to the sensation, but it felt _right_ , all the same. Thor pulled back out, almost to the tip, head stretching Loki’s hole unbearably, and thrust back in with a sickly slap, grunting in pleasure. Loki was completely unmoored, adrift, the only thing keeping him sane was the thing driving him mad–Thor’s cock, and Thor in general, grabbing at him, possessing him. The way Thor had gotten rid of his competition and so readily laid claim to his own brother made Loki shiver. He felt as though his knees were about to give out, and yet to him there was only this, only the feeling that if Thor stopped fucking him, now, it would all be over. Thor’s fingers dug into Loki’s hips, rutting into him mercilessly, growling his pleasure; Loki managed to hold himself upright, his arms shaking with the effort of keeping himself in the position Thor had decided to take him in.

His own cock was painfully hard between his legs, and it took a monumental effort to stay upright long enough to touch himself. Finally Loki managed to shift his weight onto one arm without pushing Thor away, breath hitching in relief as he finally stroked himself. He’d been holding off touching himself for days now; at first it had been impossible to resist, and then it simply worsened the effects of the heat. Loki closed his eyes, focusing, trying to match Thor’s hectic rhythm, when–

“I believe that’s my job.”

Loki felt a warm hand cover his. Thor barely slowed the pace of his thrusts as he gently pushed Loki’s arm back to the floor, holding onto his waist with just one hand, the other wrapping around Loki’s cock and stroking _fast_. Loki groaned his appreciation and sank back down, the force of Thor’s thrusts still jerking his whole body forward.

A burst of obscene pride flared in Loki’s chest as he realized what a capable mate he had secured for himself. Thor was hitting something in him that had so desperately, desperately needed attention for days, for weeks, and the hysterical, feverish state that Loki had been in now felt more tolerable. The heat was still washing over his body, that much was true–but now it was a pleasurable heat, a shared heat. He was so _close_ to something like satisfaction now, if Thor just kept touching him like that, kept stroking him--

“Ohhhh–– _oh_ —” Unbidden, a low, satisfied whine made its way up Loki’s throat, and the keening sound became impossible to suppress as he came. Thor fucked him through his orgasm; Loki’s hips bucked slightly as he spilled over Thor’s hand, but Thor had found a pace he liked and was keeping with it no matter how many little mewls of protest escaped his brother’s lips. Loki was trembling again now, feeling weightless and too heavy to move at the same time, and _still_ Thor didn’t let up. They must have been quite a sight: Thor, not even undressed, hunched over Loki who was a mess of hair and sweat and cum, ass in the air, whimpering, begging him to continue.

 _This_ , Loki thought hazily as Thor slammed against him, _this is what people mean when they say something is too good to be true._  It felt too good to be mere chance, even. Had he, Loki, had a hand in this? Had he known they would eventually end up here? It was so difficult to think of what had been important to him prior to this. Body still aching, Loki let himself move with every thrust, accommodating every inch, trying to be perfect, trying to be the best sex Thor had _ever_ had.

He was struck with the startling realization that this would not be enough, that he would need this again, and again, until his heat finally broke, and that he simply _had_ to have it from Thor–no one else would do. Thor bent down and pressed a kiss to Loki’s bare back, doubled over, forehead bumping against Loki’s shoulder, thrusts getting less measured. He could feel Thor’s hot breath against his skin and he reached back blindly, craving more contact, irritated when his hands brushed up against the rough weave of Thor’s tunic rather than skin.

“ _Just like that_ ,” Loki found himself muttering, voice a low rasp, and he sounded more like himself than he had in days. “ _Please_.” Thor growled and threw an arm under Loki’s chest, bent over almost on top of him now, pinning them together as he fucked into Loki, breath catching, the muscles of his legs tightening, and Loki felt a rush of anticipation, ready to be filled, to be claimed–

Suddenly Loki felt Thor pull _back_ , drop him, as if he was trying to pull out, and Loki’s stomach clenched– _no, this would not do, that is not how this **goes**_. Was Thor really so stupid, trying to be–what, neat? Sanitary? Polite? Surely they were beyond that now. The idea of Thor not finishing inside him was unthinkable to Loki; it was an insult, a rejection of the highest order.

“Don’t— _please_ –come back–” Loki gasped, whimpering, needy, one hand clawing at the back of Thor’s thigh; Thor’s pants had slipped down and Loki dug his nails in deep, pulling Thor back onto him with a strangled cry. With a great effort, Loki twisted himself around and glared up and Thor, and almost came again himself as he caught a glimpse of his ass stretched painfully wide around Thor’s cock. But he kept his head, and there was venom in Loki’s tone as he pressed himself down, taking the rest of Thor’s length inside him, demanding what was his.

“That is not,” Loki hissed, feeling Thor’s hips jerk as Loki pressed up against him, “how this _fucking_ works, do you understand, brother? Don’t you––ah–” He was cut off, as Thor had grabbed his hips again, thrusting in deep, as though the word _brother_ had been enough to convince him, but Loki still managed to choke out “–dare try to leave me like that again, don’t you dare, Thor, _Thor_ –!”

Something about hearing Loki say his name must have pushed Thor over the edge, because Loki’s words were cut off as Thor drove into him with one last shuddering thrust, slamming a hand onto his back, holding Loki down at a humiliating angle as he came, hot, wet bursts, roaring his satisfaction, keeping him in place as the god of thunder rode out his orgasm.

_Oh._

Loki felt the first sticky dribble of seed run down his thigh, and with a shocked cry he felt his legs tense up as he came for the second time without laying a hand on himself, mouth open, completely overwhelmed, gasping for air as Thor’s wide hand crushed his back. This was _everything_. This was what he had needed, to be filled like this, to be used like this. Loki palmed his still-twitching cock as he crumpled to the floor, Thor still inside him, no longer able to stay upright, whole body stinging with pleasure.

The reassuring weight of another body pressed itself against him, and Loki settled there, not thinking of anything, mind blissfully blank, simply breathing, blanketed by Thor’s warmth. It felt like minutes until Thor finally pulled out, much to Loki’s distaste–there was an empty, wet feeling that came with it, and yet more seed dripped down his thigh and onto the floor. They lay there another moment before Thor got up.

 _No–_. The sting of abandonment was familiar to Loki; it had been expected, really, that Thor would not lie with him after it was all over. Loki stifled a cry, alarmed at how intense the feeling of loss was; he wanted his mate back, back here where he belonged. But the second orgasm had cleared Loki’s head slightly, and he bit his lip, stifling a whimper. No, it was fine. Perhaps his brother, Loki mused, felt shame at what he had done. He must be quite a sight now; leaking come out his ass, probably pink in the face and bruised like a peach wherever Thor had touched him, laying prone on the floor. Actually, it was probably a gorgeous sight, all told, and if Loki had been less exhausted, he would have repositioned himself, given Thor a better view, tried to entice him back. As it was, he simply squeezed his eyes shut tighter, trying to find that silent, empty state of mind again, trying to focus–

And then Loki felt an arm hook under his, another hitching behind his knees, and before he knew what was going on, Thor had scooped him up off the ground and into his arms. Loki’s eyes flew open; he winced, he was sore and the itch of the heat had left his entire body tender, like an open nerve. He had to lean back slightly to peer up at Thor, who looked….well, gorgeous. His blonde hair had not quite succeeded in escaping the braids and ties he usually kept it in, but it was certainly making an attempt, and Thor’s cheeks were flushed pink under his beard. He grinned down at Loki.

“Hey.”

“…Hello.”

“I think….I think we’ll need to take this over there, don’t you?” said Thor, nodding in the direction of the bed. Loki could only stare up at him, drinking in every detail, admiring how easy a task lifting his entire body seemed to be for the prince of Asgard. “At a loss for words? That’s a first. I’ll have to make a joint decision on my own.”

Thor was still grinning, walking slowly towards the bed, practically crooning down at Loki. “I say…yes.” They arrived at the bed, and Thor bent carefully down to deposit Loki’s slender frame. Loki managed to scoot back slightly and folded his arms against his chest, eyes wide, still unable to speak. He just wanted to look at Thor before he had to leave, he wanted to memorize every inch of the man before him because maybe, just maybe, the memory would be enough to see him through the heat. Loki wasn’t sure what he’d do if Thor had him a second time only to leave for good. Thor gazed down at him, a characteristic gentleness in his eyes that Loki had never quite gotten a taste of when they were children, but had always admired–and desired, a little, now that he thought about it. He had yearned for it, even, and once again, the fear that Thor would leave clenched at his heart.

“I’ll just be a moment.” Thor stepped back and peeled himself out of his tunic, stepping out of his trousers and kicking off his boots where he stood, eyes never leaving Loki. Against his better judgment, Loki reached out both his hands, wanting absolutely nothing more in the world than to feel Thor’s skin against his. Thor chuckled. “I’m coming, I’m coming! I want the old Loki back, he’d be telling me off for not unlacing my boots.”

“Well, you always kick them off at the heel, it’s idiotic.” The retort was reflexive, and Loki was startled to hear himself speak so _normally_ , but a moment later Thor was crawling onto the bed, over to him, and speech seemed to abandon Loki again as Thor settled on top of him, tugging one of the blankets over their legs, propping himself up, blonde hair tumbling down his shoulders, the curls almost brushing Loki’s face.

Thor was... warm. Absurdly warm.

“Hey,” Thor said again, stupidly. He lowered his bearded face down until their noses bumped together. Loki felt himself tense up slightly, not sure what he was meant to be doing, the burning desire for closeness that the heat had stirred still completely overwhelming to him.

“Can I….” Thor’s brow furrowed, as if he was choosing his words with great care. “Can I kiss you?”

Loki wanted very badly to ask him what kind of a question that was, why Thor felt the need to _ask_ for anything now, when he had been plowing into him just moments ago, when he had been Thor’s _prisoner_ until just moments ago, but instead Loki just gave the faintest of nods, settling his head back on the mattress, nervously brushing a stray strand of hair away from his chin.

“Mmm.” Thor closed the distance between them, pressing a chaste kiss to Loki’s mouth, then another, and another, practically nuzzling at his jawline before Loki finally parted his lips and returned the kiss in earnest. Loki tried to think of the last time he had been kissed by someone. It must have been years, he thought, literal _years_. How strange. Yes, it must have been at least five years. He hadn’t realized he’d missed it until now, or perhaps Thor was simply a very good kisser, persistent and gentle. Gaining a bit of confidence now, Loki curled one slender hand into Thor’s hair and pulled him in closer, thrilling at the feeling of their chests pressed together, hungry for the contact, daring to wrap his other arm around Thor and feel the muscles of his back undulate as he rocked forward slightly to deepen the kiss. Thor’s beard was–a new sensation, but not an unpleasant one, Loki thought, as he angled his chin slightly, letting out a satisfied little sigh as Thor’s tongue lapped into his mouth. He felt the heat making itself known again, and squirmed slightly, uncomfortably aware that he was _wet_ , his body preparing itself for another round. But it would have to wait. Well, it _could_ wait, if…

“Will you stay?” Loki managed, breathlessly, breaking away from Thor with a great effort, hand still twined in his blonde hair. Thor looked down utter confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“With…me. For the rest of this. I just... before we do this, I have to know. Because I’m afraid I’m going to…” Loki trailed off delicately, then decided that this was not the time to mince words. “I’m afraid I’m going to need you to fuck me again,” Loki said matter-of-factly, watching Thor’s expression nervously. “And soon. And…several times after that, probably. And I’m going to need you to–to not leave me, do you understand?” His desperation was hard to hide. “You’ve _got_ to stay near me.”

Thor grinned, dropping his head back down to Loki’s cheek and trying to kiss it. “Sounds good to me–” but Loki had pulled away again, spreading his fingers across Thor’s chest, fixing him with a stern look.

“I _mean_ it.”

“So do I.” Thor put one hand on the side of Loki’s face, sweeping messy hair back from his temples, and Loki leaned into the touch instinctively. “Loki, I give you my word. The only way they’ll get me away from you…” Thor bent back down, allowing himself a kiss, breath hot against Loki’s face. “Is to drag me away be force.”

“That…” Loki replied, trying not to let the satisfaction at Thor’s pledge get to his head, “seems fairly likely, actually, under the circumstances.”

“Mmm. I’m very _difficult_ to drag, though, is the thing.” Thor smiled, regarding Loki with an affection that was almost blinding, something so raw and new and achingly familiar all at once, something that felt like truth. He stroked Loki's hair again, voice a low rumble that had all the intensity of thunder.  
  
“I’d like to see them try to take me away from you.”

Loki, in spite of himself, shivered. He let Thor press another kiss to his lips, heart racing.

Far, far back in the part of his mind that, prior to the onset of his heat, had been devoted to long-term schemes, Loki felt something that might have been a rush of _victory_. He had always assumed, after all, that Thor leaving him was something to be counted on; being a second choice was second nature to him. But something assured him that that was over now. Perhaps it was the way Thor kept covering his mouth with gentle kisses, or perhaps it was the ease with which they had shifted from brothers to not-brothers to enemies to lovers, or perhaps it was how that unnamable, fiery little urge in the pit of Loki’s stomach was still silently willing Thor to _yes, stay, stay with me, mate with me, only me_ , and how Thor seemed to be obeying. Whatever it was, Loki thought as Thor rolled more fully on top of him, protective, covering his entire body in a shield of tan muscle, it was enough.

_Enough to make you mine._

And Thor, teeth scraping across Loki’s neck as he slipped back into him a few moments later, seemed to agree.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like mid-sex POV shifts are akin to epic key changes in a good pop song, don't you agree?
> 
> Anyways, this was fun as all hell to write, I hope you liked it too! Again, this is my first shot at writing fic, so feedback is encouraged :D

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoy my first attempt at fanfic! I'm newly on tumblr at https://copper--wires.tumblr.com/


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